


The Drunken Satyrs Did It, I Promise

by PropheticOphelia



Series: Personal Essays from School [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad book and author references, Edited for school, Gen, My own original work, Other, School Essay - Freeform, aka their names, look it was part of the assignment, look them up homie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 00:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10956114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PropheticOphelia/pseuds/PropheticOphelia
Summary: An original story that I created, then heavily edited for a school essay because it wasn't even close to being done. If this gets enough attention and stuff I might go back to working on the original work and finish up the first chapter and post it here as well. It all depends on yall so,,,there's that. Don't forget to give actual criticism and advice please.





	The Drunken Satyrs Did It, I Promise

There once was a boy who lived in an orphanage, a stinky orphanage if we were to be truthful. He had no name besides being called “boy” and “stupid” but for the sake of having a name let us call him Leopold, but those nicknames didn’t help his already gutter deep self-esteem if we were to be truthful about that too. He had no family to claim for his own, for you see, they died when he was rather young by a short bout of a plague that-well- plagued the city. Only about a hundred was confirmed dead so unfortunately the newspaper did not do a report on it, as per request of the main editor, as there is many bouts of plague to enter the city. Completely off topic, so back to Leopold and this tiny snippet of his horrible and slightly smelly life. Leopold only had one thing in his rather bony and starved possession, and that was a book.  
The book itself was rather beautiful, decorated with gorgeous flowers and vines and what looked like fat little satyrs dancing all along the spine and cover while drinking wine. Beautiful much like a painting of an ancient civilization and mythology, but weird like seeing a painting of a giant man eating his baby. As lovely as the book was, there was no words inside the book, just blank page after blank page. Leopold’s father was a maker of books you see, and he crafted this specific book for his wife, Leopold’s mother, who fancied herself as a dramatic poet of the old world. As mentioned before, they died before she could even breathe life onto the cream colored pages, so now it lays underneath Leopold’s ratty blankets, which look like old holey socks sewn together.

Before we go on an tangent about his barely legal living space, let us describe Leopold himself, purely for the audiences comfort and entertainment. Leopold had dark hair, like coffee grounds that has been chewed up and spat upon the dirty ground, much like tobacco or a mangled rotten banana. He has dark, hooded eyes, and those who claimed to have seem them behind his shaggy hair, say when they hit the light they are a stormy grey, much like wet cement. Freckles cover his face all the way down to his pinky toe and he inherited his mother’s unfortunate crooked nose. Not hooked or big, just, crooked. His skin is pale, the book itself has more color than him and many in the orphanage say he’s actually a ghost that lives off of potato skins, some say he eats carrot skin as well. Don’t get us started on the state of his wardrobe-

“BOY”, a shrill and slightly squeaky feminine voice screeched, the sound bouncing off the padded walls and slamming into Leopold’s ears, stopping his inner monologue. 

He winced as he harshly scrubbed his ears, he’s been leaving himself memos to stop talking about himself in third person but like he was really going to listen to himself, let’s be real. There! He did it again and now- the door suddenly banged open and a drunken satyr came barreling towards him, and nope, it’s just the director of the cursed and not entirely legal orphanage. There she was in all of her glory, overweight, red and smelling slightly of sardines and unions for unknown reasons. It may seem like a harsh assessment but really what harm- oh there was a meaty hand grabbing him- and now he’s being dragged up to his feet like a lamb being prepared for sacrifice, or to be roasted with a side of potato wedges and rosemary to compliment the taste. She was an ugly one, that Miss Eugene, rumor has it that she never married because she could never find a man willing to look past her constant beet red face and the stench that surrounded her constantly. This is obviously beside the point, the point is Leopold has been summoned, forcibly.

“Yes Miss Eugene?” he responded faintly, his dark eyes looking everywhere besides the round turnip of a woman standing in front of him. He felt her meaty paw tighten slightly, causing him to wheeze out a noise similar to a dying cat.

“Pray tell me, why the dishes have NOT BEEN WASHED YET?!” Miss Eugene snarled out, her eyes bulging slightly as the veins in her neck and head grew more prominent. She slightly shook him, causing his head to forcibly move back and forth into the thickly padded walls that seems to swallow sounds up. 

“Well you see Miss Eugene, can I call you Eugenie? I didn’t do them because, I am going to be honest here, I didn’t see the point of doing them when you haven’t given us our meager meal of bread and stewed rats. It just meant more dishes for me to do and then you would have gotten even slightly more mental than you are now, and being this red isn’t good for your blood pressure you know. Have you seen Doctor Bluebell about that? I really think that is something of a higher priority than dishes ma’am-”, and before he could finish his sentence, the hand that was grabbing him roughly threw him into the cushioned wall. 

Well this isn’t good, she was mad, like really mad. He had forgotten that Miss Eugene does not like sass at all, sass is her enemy, alongside her bad dieting habits and fondness for spicy foods. Leopold knew better than try to get up right away, he might as well just sit there and wait for her to finish the tiny rant that she has started while he was thinking about her bad dietary and personal habits. 

“…LITTLE JERK OF A BAD POET”, she finished screaming, her face a dark purple and eyes even more bulged out.

Leopold frowned as she finished her sentence, honestly now that was uncalled for and totally unrelated to the entire situation, and before he could open his mouth to refute her claims there was a light knock on the door. Silence reigned through the minuscule room, the only thing contradicting the silence is Miss Eugene’s harsh breathing and what sounds like dying mice as her nostrils flare with each heaving intake of air. 

“Come in”, Miss Eugene hissed out as she straightened her pumpkin like body as much as she could, her dirty blond hair stuck onto her greasy face. Her upper lip hair quivering in the blinding white overhead light, she looked like she was an uncle who raised a magician for a nephew had named Parry Hotter.

A young man entered the room, looking above Leopold’s greasy hair as he walked further into the room, his piercing blue eyes not once flinching at the sight before him as he cleared his throat. Leopold remembered who he was, he was Miss Eugene’s nephew, Huxley or something like that, aka stuffy old man name who probably writes books to do something with a “New World” and stupid philosophy. Off topic once again due to maintenance issues and an ill mind, he entered the room and addressed Miss Eugene.

“Aunt Eugenie, there is a visitor downstairs who claims to have an appointment with you in your…office”, he spoke in a crisp accent with a dash of disgust, as if that automatically makes him better than anyone in the city, which is possibly true.

“Thank you dearie and if you don’t mind, make sure that Stupid” she flips her hand in Leopold’s direction, “here does the dishes after dinner AND throw away the trash”, she finished with a smirk as she lumbered out of the room.

Leopold felt his mouth drop open and his features realigned to show disgust, anything but throwing away the trash, it may seem like a menial and simple task, but the audience simply doesn’t understand what is at stake here. This isn’t just any daily trash that is being tossed, this is an entire weeks’ worth of trash being tossed, anything is in there, rats, dirty diapers, girl stuff and who knows what else. Leopold felt bile rising from his throat as he stared rather pitifully at Huxley who coincidentally refuses to meet Leopold’s eyes which is rude, Leopold felt the bright lights of the room make the real fear of throwing up true. As Miss Eugene lumbers downstairs, Huxley finally meets Leopold’s eyes, his vivid blue eyes narrowing slightly and his upper lip curled up as he took in the sight of Leopold’s malnourished body.

“I’m only going to do this because you’re new and I feel bad for you, do the damn dishes and I’ll get the nanny to throw the trash. You owe me big time, remember that newbie.” Huxley spoke sharply as he turned to leave the room, his tied back strawberry blonde hair swishing from the gesture.

Leopold watched in amazement as Huxley left, what did he mean he wouldn’t have to take the trash out? Is this a dream? Or just the drunken satyrs dancing on the book again? His eyes moved throughout the room, making sure that Satan isn’t going to pop up and drag him down or Miss Eugene, but there isn’t much of a difference. He groaned loudly as he collapsed on his sunken in bed, the smell of moldy socks rising from the mattress in distress. Seriously, this orphanage is a stinky one, nothing is new and don’t even get us started on the state of the clothes everyone is forced to wear, white with little buckles throughout the clothes and super long sleeves- and there he goes again with the talking inside of his head like a crazy. So, Leopold laid there staring at his cracked and roach infested ceiling wishing for at least a broom to knock down all those jerks, they don’t even pay rent for that ceiling. 

Leopold shifted slightly, grabbing the blank book from under his rotten sock blanket and holding it above his head, the satyrs grinning at him from the cover and wine spilling from their goblets onto the golden leaves embossed on there. He could have sworn he hear laughter coming from the book, the thick book vibrating in his hands. Then again, it might just be Miss Eugene rumbling around the house, and seriously this orphanage sucks. He felt his eyes grow heavy and it grew harder and harder to even blink properly, so he squeezed them tightly hoping it would help stop the white noise that goes throughout the room. Leopold felt the air shift, like he was in a completely different room and even the smells were different, instead of smelly socks it was strangely sterile. Suddenly an alarm went through the room with padded walls and lights on 24/7 and the door was opened from the outside, because why would the locks be inside?

“Inmate 70643611! Stand up with your hands in the air and wait for orderlies Eugene and Huxley to escort you from your cell! Do not try to escape this time, stupid” a voice ordered through a tiny speaker, interrupting the white noise that is on all the time.

Leopold opened his eyes and frowned, he never understood why that voice liked to interrupt his conversations with himself, and can we explain this? Honestly Leopold, we are going to have to say no for now, but we can all agree this place sucks a lot, like the food, drinks, and entertainment makes it seem like we live in an insane asylum instead of a home for orphans, 2/10 overall for services. Leopold giggled as he stood in the tiny bare room with his arms raised above his head, and he continued to giggle as the orderlies grabbed his oversized sleeves and forcibly wrapped them around his body. The orderlies looked at each other in exasperation as they took Leopold’s squirmy and slightly sweaty body out of the room, his maniac giggles resonating throughout the hallway as a firm reminder that he isn’t all there in the head, but then again who is?

**Author's Note:**

> Annoyed that you can express your undying hatred for me easily on here? Stir up my asks on tumblr: https://batuu-khan.tumblr.com/


End file.
